


simmering

by InsertImaginativeNameHere



Series: The Events Surrounding Kate's Injury [2]
Category: Baccano!
Genre: Flashbacks, Gandor Bros being Rly Good Bros, Gen, Implied Murder, Midquel, Protective Siblings, Revenge, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertImaginativeNameHere/pseuds/InsertImaginativeNameHere
Summary: On going to see those who injured Kate and teach them a lesson, Luck watches Keith closely. His anger is a force to be reckoned with.





	simmering

**Author's Note:**

> set in the timeskip of and their melody continued. a midquel of sorts, from Luck's perspective.

A lead had come up on the car that Kate’s attackers had used. They were headed down there now, as many guys as could be spared, Keith walking briskly ahead of them, fury radiating off every fibre of his being. It was hard not to be a little afraid of him right then, even when you knew him. Perhaps especially when you knew him, Luck thought, when you knew how much he loved Kate,  _ adored _ her. How much it shook him to see her hurt. If Luck didn’t think he’d seen Keith this angry, he was positive he’d never seen him this scared. His eldest brother had been this unshakeable pinnacle, a monolith, someone he’d looked up to for so long. Throughout his childhood Keith had always been there, a silent fixture. As he’d grown up he’d come to better understand why Keith was the way he was, but when he was younger it had just been one of those facts of life.

And he’d always respected him so much.

He loved his brothers. Their wives were  _ family _ . Kate was family.

Luck didn’t envision himself getting wed any time soon, if not  _ never _ , but he’d be the first to agree Keith and Kate’s union had been a wonderful thing for both of them. Kate was wonderful. A more incredible woman would be hard to find, certainly not one so suited to Keith.

Luck watched his eldest brother cautiously. He was hard to read at the best of times. It was hard to predict what he’d do. His anger was a simmering pot, bubbling up and not quite boiling over. Carefully controlled, holding himself tightly in check. If you looked closely, you could see how taut he was pulled, how close to snapping he was. Breaking point.

Berga, always the hothead, was reeling off every threat under the sun. His temper was predictable, to be expected. Keith, on the other hand…

_ A simmering pot, bubbling over… _

 

_ - _

_ The pasta was boiling over. Luck wasn’t sure what to do. He was only just six, but he could reach up onto the stove, tiptoes. Berga was out roughhousing with the neighbourhood kids, he didn’t want a tag-along and had said so. Their father was at work, Keith was somewhere, probably shuffling cards and practising. So it was Luck’s job to take charge. He reached for the saucepan lid, almost plunging his bare hand into the mass of scalding bubbles when he felt fingers grab his wrist. He turned to see his brother, frowning down at him. _

_ “Be careful,” Keith had admonished him gently, moving the pot off the heat and taking an implement to remove the lid carefully. Young Luck had watched in awe.  _

_ The bubbles died down. _

_ When their father came home for dinner he’d rushed over to him. “Dad, dad! Keith said actual words today!” _

_ Their father had laughed, Berga had called bullshit and been rebuked for his language, Keith had looked somewhat embarrassed. _

_ They’d had dinner. As a family. _

_ Later, Claire would join them, and the same still applied, always applied, would always apply. _

_ They were family. _

_ There was nothing more important than family. _

 

-

 

There was nothing more important than family, no. Kate was family, an attack on her was an attack on them. Kate was family, and that mattered on a personal level, not just professional. Tempers were high; everyone liked Kate, cared about her. Not only as the don’s wife...as  _ Kate _ . As the person she was.

According to their info, the car should be parked out back of this specific pawnbrokers that was rumoured to be a cover for a group of dealers, a low-key operation trying to make it big. Luck was positive he’d sent guys round to crack down on them the other day, convince them to move on or stick to legal business at least.

_ Oh _ .

He knew it as soon as he recognised the car, sitting in the alley, not even hidden. This situation was his fault. If he’d personally attended to it, these people wouldn’t have been able to begin this tirade of vengeance, their counterattack. Indirectly, at least, he’d caused Kate to be attacked. Guilt tugged at his stomach. It was his fault. If Keith didn’t forgive him, Luck wouldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t forgive himself either.

He looked at Keith again, searching for some sort of sign in his face and found nothing. He knew Keith must have known Luck’s involvement by this point, but he didn’t spare him so much as a stray glance. No, his eyes were fixed ahead, burning with fierce intensity as he made his way to the back door, standing aside only for Berga to kick it in.

They stormed the place, a contingent of men entering via the front door at the same time, a double-pronged attack launched with astonishing speed and precision. The guys were caught thoroughly unawares, sat around arguing over a pile of money unlikely to be from their legitimate business. Luck recognised one of the men from earlier that day - so did Berga, immediately taking a swing at the guy, fist connecting roughly with his face. The guy spluttered in astonishment, choking on surprise and fear. His comrades moved for their weapons but were shut down by the realisation they were hopelessly outgunned, frozen where they were, several tommy guns aimed at each of them. Sounds of a scuffle from the front, and then their men hauled the fifth and final conspirator through, Mike flinging him to the floor at Keith’s feet.

The man groaned, pulling himself up, eyes widening when he realised precisely who had come for them. He looked around in blind panic.

Berga hit the other guy again. 

“This - is - for - Kate - you - bastards!”

Blow after blow, leaving the jumped-up scumbag’s face a mess. He was released to join his colleague on the floor in a heap of pain. The other three accomplices were forced to their knees.

Keith eyed them all with a look that was so cold Luck could feel chills crawling up his own spine as he stepped forward.

There were words to be had.

It was Luck’s job to take care of that. Least he could do after his hand in causing this mess.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t find you? How stupid can you get?” He rifled through the cash on the table, counting it up. “You could have used this cash to run. You might have even got away, might have escaped, but you didn’t even try. How arrogant are you? To think you genuinely believed you could just come for a woman without consequence…” He shook his head, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles went white. “Who do you think you are?”

One of the hapless thugs spat on the floor between Luck’s feet. “Big words, but it wasn’t your wife, was it? What’s the matter,” he called at Keith, mockingly sing-song. “Not man enough to speak for yourself so you let your little brother do the talking?”

Luck tensed. The atmosphere of the room, while chilly before, dropped several degrees to become thoroughly hypothermic. All of the Gandor men froze. The idiot who spoke’s compatriots - those who were conscious - seemed to be cursing their involvement with someone so lacking in self-preservation. Berga made a move to go for the guy, cursing, but even he stopped in his tracks.

Keith stepped forward.

His facial expression hadn’t changed a bit, perhaps his eyebrows furrowed a little more, perhaps it was a trick of the cheap, flickering bulbs. From his pocket he produced a notebook, dropping it in front of the man.

“What’s this-?” the guy asked, fearfully, voice trembling. He opened the book to find it blank. “Why-?”

Grimly Keith handed the man a pen. “Your will.  _ Write it _ .”

_ Oh God _ , Luck thought numbly, detached. He wasn’t surprised by the death sentence, he’d expected it. These men deserved it. It was that impassive voice, familiar, if not often heard. The strangeness in his tone, the sheer  _ rage _ . It made the hairs on Luck’s neck stand on end.

There were people who paid money for Keith’s rare words. Luck wondered what these particular words were worth. Only four of them, none wasted, but they told those men they wouldn’t be leaving this room alive. Fear turned to terror.

Keith stepped forward again, so that he was level with the man. He clenched his fists, and-

 

-

 

They left their men to deal with the bodies, walking away from the scene of the crime with blood-spattered shirts. Luck lit a cigarette and exhaled. Berga clapped him on the back and indicated Keith walking ahead.

“Y’think he’s alright?” 

Luck shrugged, passing Berga his lighter. “Dunno. He’s not an easy man to read.”

“Yeah,” Berga agreed, fiddling with the lighter clumsily. Sighing, Luck lit the cigarette for him. “You talk to him, maybe? I ain’t good at the mushy stuff.”

“Are you saying I am?” Luck raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Berga snorted. “Hell no. You’re shit. But ya read poems, right, books an’ crap like that. You can do like, words. One of us needs ta an’ it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.”

Rolling his eyes, Luck sped up so he was keeping pace with Keith. He offered a cigarette. Keith accepted.

“So that’s dealt with, what now? I assume you’re going to check on Kate, is there anything you need me to do?”

Keith said nothing. He cradled his cigarette instead, breathing smoke into the cool midnight air. It was hard to gauge his mood but if anything Luck would say ‘distracted’. Couldn’t blame him.

Once again Luck felt a sudden surge of guilt flooding him. A reminder this was his fault. Swallowing uncertainly, he got his words together, formulating an apology.

“I’m sorry.” Keith looked at him abruptly, his surprise evident. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d dealt with the guys properly to begin with. What they did to Kate is- it was - it’s-”

“It’s not your fault.”

Luck looked up at his brother, smiling weakly. “You say that, but the fact remains if I’d come down hard on them straight off, Kate wouldn’t have become a target; they couldn’t have carried out any counterattacks if our initial approach had been salted earth.”

“They carried out the attack. You didn’t. Not your fault.” Keith placed a hand on Luck’s shoulder. It was nice to know even if he blamed himself - and he did - that Keith wasn’t holding it against him. “Go home, Luck.”

Luck nodded. He  _ was _ tired. He certainly needed some rest. Bidding his brother farewell he was about to go when he heard a cough and turned back to Keith.

“Be careful,” Keith said.

_ Moved off the heat, the bubbles died down. _

Luck nodded and walked home.

**Author's Note:**

> once again, I cut exactly what happens as I feel it carries more weight if we don't know exactly what.


End file.
